The Missing Key
by Any1there4me1
Summary: [Season 4 Spoiler Alert] Kenzi struggles in the wake of Hale's death, drawn into herself and wishing that life hadn't been so cruel. The security and happiness that she had once felt around the Fae has disappeared and she feels like a shell of the woman she had been. Where does she belong now? What is her purpose? [Follows the final episodes of Season 4 closely]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Lost Girl, as much as I daydream about it. :)

* * *

**The Missing Key**

Chapter 1

I read the prophecy again, my eyes skimming the lines. I had been sitting, then pacing, then bending over the table to spread the parchment flat so the light made the words unmistakable. Bo, Trick, Dyson, Lauren, even the stranger Rainer—they all had parts to play.

Even Ha—I'm not ready to say his name, and I try not to think it. But he, too, is here in these words, and I can't stop from twisting the ring on my finger and staring at the floor where I knelt over his body. He's here, but he isn't. He is included, but he is gone. He loved me, saved me, and then was forced away as I held my hands against his body and tried to stop his leaving.

Some people have described a loved one dying as sudden, slow, peaceful, painful, but those words apply to the departing soul's experience in his or her withering earthly body. What about those who have to watch, paralyzed by the dawning of what they are witnessing, only to understand all too quickly and not quick enough? What about _me_?

He is gone. I watched as his chest heaved, the dark blood staining the floorboards and my clothes as it gushed from his body. The bigger the red pool beneath my knees became, the less life I had.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi…_ Already the feeling had left my fingers and toes. Minutes before we had been lying in bed, arms around one another and his cheek snuggled into my chest. Then along came another human caught up in the Fae world, struggling to raise himself above the "useless and expendable human" label.

I had made it, though. I made myself important. I found family, in Bo, the others—and love. That one was unexpected, but like things I didn't ask for, it came crashing through the door and into me. A Fae boy and human girl. Man, that's what fairy tales are made of.

Damn Massimo couldn't have that. He couldn't let things be; he held a grudge. He saw in my relationships to the Fae everything he had longed for: appreciation, affection, belonging, family. Who could love someone who tried to demand all of those and more? Those only come when earned, and Massimo was not about the earning. If there were a chant and recipe for bypassing the difficult moments in life, he would poison whoever possessed those secrets.

…or stab them in the back, like a soulless coward.

My nails left bloody crescents on my palms, and my fingers were tight and sore. I had let my mind draw me back into my hatred, and I didn't even notice until after I had swiped hair from my face that I had bitter tears running down my cheeks, and they now mixed with the blood on my hands.

It was all too much like Ha-Hale's, dripping from my fingers, soaking my shirt, making my face slick as I tried to wipe tears from my eyes.

I had screamed, crying for help, anything, something. My mind to mouth filter clogged and I couldn't say, "This isn't supposed to happen. I wanted to say 'yes.' I wanted to say 'yes' and marry you and have all your little freaky Fae babies." The words couldn't come, and you couldn't wait.

I wanted to say 'yes.' Bo held me and I was able to tell her, beg her, "Please, oh God please, do the chi thing and bring him back." She shook her head and held onto me. "Take all of mine, just bring him back. _I wanted to say 'yes!_'"

"It'll kill you, Kenzi." She held me tight, so very tight. I couldn't breathe; not because of her hold, but because everything was crashing in and my ribs couldn't keep the weight from falling onto my lungs.

My throat became raw and I moaned. "Please, please, please. Take my life, _my life_"

"No, Kenzi. I can't. It will kill you, and I will _always choose you_."

* * *

All reviews welcome, and please included lots of constructive criticism. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lost Girl.' :(

* * *

**The Missing Key**

Chapter 2

The darkness turned to gray and then red as the sun rose. I squeezed my eyes shut and moaned, pulling the throw above my head. I groaned as I leaned forward in the chair I had fallen asleep in, contorting my body into a mess of limbs to fit the small space. Still ended up in a sitting position, though, and had slumped over at some point in the night. As my arms reached for the ceiling, there were pops from vertebrae I didn't realize I could crick and crack. The release of pressure ached at first, the joints readjusting back to normal placement, and then the soreness disappeared. With its fading came the remembering, and with the remembering came another kind of pain that movement couldn't ease. Nothing could ease it. It was a constant pressure in my chest and stomach, a tightness that comes when you are about to vomit. It was like a vice was placed around my innards, trying to force everything inside me up through the top and out. That is, if anything remained, because I'm pretty sure everything had dried up and died when Bo had refused to save Hale.

I stood up, grabbed the prophecy from the table and fisted it. This damn thing had to go. Hale was dead. He couldn't be a part of something when he was buried in some Fae family mausoleum, and if this thing said he was still a part of it, then it can't be real. It was trash, all of it, and it was now showing lies. I rushed into the kitchen and started to throw the dirty dishes from the sink and onto the floor. I flipped the faucet on to as hot as it would go, and waited until the temperature was unbearable. My free hand's fingertips turned a bright red eventually, and that's when I pulled back and stared.

Was I really going to do this? Could I do this?

I hit the garbage disposal switch and the sink started a shrill, metallic grind. I held my fist above and shook.

He is dead. This prophecy is dead.

I loosened my grip slowly, lifting first my pinky, then the ring finger, the middle finger following last. The crumpled parchment fluttered from forefinger and thumb, the two rubbing together until only nails held the prophecy from destruction. I pressed my fingers together until the tips were squeezed white and the nails bending and threatening to break. They trembled and I tried to pry them apart. _Hale is gone. _My forefinger slipped but didn't let go.

I bit my lip, closing my eyes against tears. My hand began to hurt from the strain of trying to let go and fight against the urge to hold on. My hand shook harder and wilder. _He is gone. He is gone and he is never coming back._

From the depths of my body, I began to moan. The low mewl grew, and grew, and grew, until it was pushing and shredding up my throat. It burst from my mouth and I pulled my hand away just when I was sure I couldn't hang on a second longer. Turning away, I fell against the counter and slid to the floor, hooking my arms beneath my knees. The prophecy lay under my feet and I kicked out. "Get away from me! Goddammit, get away!" The screaming became incomprehensible, loud whines and sobs.

* * *

Thank you, Mistress Darkness, for your review. I do admit that I need to rematch the last several episode; I promise to try and align the story more accurately with the dialogue in the show.

As always, if you read, please review. Suggestions on how to improve are always wonderful, whether they be plot or writing based.


End file.
